Act V

Act V

Ansley Adams

Act V

by Ansley Adams

Smashwords
Edition

Copyright 2013

Ansley Adams

Cover art copyright
2013

K. Keigley

Professional
editing

L. Keigley

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Act I

The point!—envenom'd
too!
Then, venom, to thy work.

~~Hamlet, Act V, Scene
II~~

William
Shakespeare.

Chapter 1

"So, Claude, how are the
wife and kids? Doing well I hope.”

The man addressed as Claude
said nothing. He was clad in a gray, pin-striped, business suit,
accented by a red power tie. His hair, black and tending toward
silver at the temples, sported a fresh trim, obviously not done for
$15 at Budget Cuts. He sat slumped in the leather, wingback chair,
his colorless face showing only enough lines around the eyes and
mouth to give him what had once been an air of distinction. “What’s
wrong? Isn’t the wine up to your standards?”

No response.

“
I’m so sorry. I did the
best I could on short notice. But it’s one of the wines your wife
keeps in her wine cellar. I picked it up from downstairs. I suppose
anyone could make a mistake and buy a poor label, bad year, that
kind of thing. But isn’t your wife something of a wine
connoisseur?” He lifted the wine glass that sat on the claw-footed
end table studying it carefully and sniffing the blood-colored
fluid with leisure. “Oh, wait, now I remember. It’s not your wife
that’s the connoisseur, it’s her first husband, the late Mr.
Danning. My mistake.” He held the wine goblet to the lips of the
silent man in the leather chair. “More? No…well it might help ease
the pain from that little nick you’ve got there in your belly.” As
if unaware of Claude’s unwillingness to drink more, he tipped the
glass upward watching as rivulets of wine poured from the corners
of the man’s mouth.

Claude let his eyes drift
slowly to the middle of his torso where the hilt of a sixteenth
century long sword protruded from his muscled abdomen, blood
flowering out from the wound, mingling with the spilled wine,
forming a scarlet sunburst on his starched white button-down. Still
he said nothing. He couldn’t. A low groan escaped his lips before
his shoulders slumped further down, his head dangling to one side,
his eye-lids giving up the battle to remain open.

“
Well, then, I guess you’ll
be joining your brother now, won’t you. I hope you’ll give him my
best.”

Glynnis jerked upward in bed doing
everything in her power to catch her breath! The covers were
smothering her and she tossed them off with a single fierce kick.
Outside, the wind knocked around branches on the old magnolia,
occasionally causing one to pound the side of the house like an
angry neighbor demanding entrance. The storm was approaching and
any normal person would have crawled back under the covers.
Glynnis, grasping for a breath that didn’t make her feel like a
baby hippo was riding her chest, swung her legs around to sit on
the side of the bed. Her digital alarm clock glowed 3:00
a.m.

Her dog, Carl, curled up further under
the blanket giving Glynnis a sleepy glare meant to remind her that
it was time to rest, not walk. She breathed, or tried to. Sitting
wasn’t helping at all. “Sorry Carl, back in a minute,” she
whispered. She stumbled into the bathroom without turning on a
light. Her feet felt numb and heavy, like lead. They always did
after sleeping for a few hours. It was as if someone had latched
steel cuffs onto her ankles and started twisting. Holding onto her
dresser, she managed to get to the sink without falling and grabbed
the plastic cup she kept there for nights like this. Glynnis turned
on the tap and half-filled the cup, gulping down the water in
seconds. She felt her air passages begin to moisten but it wasn’t
enough; she still couldn’t get a clear breath. Fumbling for the
light switch, she made her way into the hallway and then the back
door, the stiffness in her legs beginning to loosen a
bit.

The door opened after only minor
fumbling. Glynnis stepped her feet, one bare and one covered in a
sleeping sock, onto the back porch. Cool air flooded her grateful
lungs, and she felt as if she’d just gotten a second chance at life
after almost drowning. Though the air was heavy with humidity, it
was cooler than in the bedroom and she could breathe again. It was
miraculous. She stood there watching the starless night for a few
seconds more wondering what had awakened her to such a feeling of
smothering. Waking in this panicked state was a problem that
occurred only once in a while. It happened more frequently when she
fell asleep on her back, causing her mouth to drop open and her air
passages to dry out. But claustrophobia was something Glynnis dealt
with in its milder form on an ongoing basis. She could manage
elevators, but she hated them and tended to get flustered if the
doors hesitated at all before opening to allow her to exit.
Escalators were not a great option for other reasons. Worse for her
was when too many people crowded into a tightly confined area. Air
travel on small planes was a horror she avoided usually with
success. All in all it was a manageable phobia. But what had
brought on this sudden anxiety?

She rewound her night. She’d gone to
bed, fallen asleep reading, then…the dream. This was the second
night Glynnis had woken from the same dream this week. There was a
man, a dead man who had a familiar face but Glynnis couldn’t place
him, and there was a disembodied voice. Well, it wasn’t exactly
disembodied. She could see the man, but only in shadow, not clearly
enough to make out features. There was also a sword, a lot of
blood, and wine. None of it really made sense, especially since she
could never remember all of it. She rarely recalled any of her
dreams in their entirety, but that didn’t make them any less
frightening.

Working her way back to the bedroom,
Glynnis decided to leave the lights on and try to sleep again. She
wouldn’t be worth a tomato in January the next morning if she
couldn’t. Her left foot was frozen despite the warmth of the night.
She searched under the covers to find her lost sleeping sock, with
the small, round grips on the sole. They were needed but made her
feel a lot older than she was. It had worked its way down between
the footboard and the mattress. She snatched it up and forced her
now chilly foot inside. Then pulling up the sheet only, she turned
on her side and tried to slow her heart beat to a manageable pace
for sleeping. “Good night Carl,” she mumbled, feeling the dog
snuggle into his favorite spot behind the crook of her knees.
“Let’s hope the third time won’t be the charm.”

Carl yawned.

“
Yeah, I know,” she said
with apprehension and regret, “It always is.”

*****

“
Excuse me sir,” the boy
managed to eek out of a mouth that looked like it had just been
released from braces. There was almost invisible fuzz growing down
from his chin as if he wanted to grow a soul patch and just hadn’t
gotten very far. “Your wife is on the phone, sir.” How old was this
kid anyway? The temp agency had sent him to cover for Darcy, who
was out with a nasty case of the pukes. Hopefully, it would only be
a 24 hour version because this wet behind the ears mutt was really
getting on Dan’s last nerve. Darcy knew everything about the
business down to who Dan did and didn’t want to talk to on the
phone. Darcy wouldn’t have asked about a call from Dan’s wife. She
would have sent her straight through. Gloria’s was the one voice he
always wanted to hear.

“
Sir?” the kid asked
hopefully, waiting for instructions. “Would you like for me to
transfer the call in here?” Dan was sure he could see pimples on
the kid’s homely cheeks and if there wasn’t a pocket protector in
his shirt, there ought to be. “Mr. Danning…what would you like for
me to…”

“
I’ll take it in here, um…”
Dan searched his mind for a name but it wouldn’t come.

“
Bob.” He filled
in.

“
Right, Bob. Just transfer
it to me in here."

“
Yes sir.” Bob backed out
the door as if he were afraid to turn his back on the almighty
Claude Danning and eased the door shut behind him. Moments later
the phone on Dan’s desk rang.

Dan picked up the receiver and leaned
back propping both feet on top of his desk. “Hello, is this the
lovely Mrs. Danning?”

“
Hey Dan,” Gloria’s sweet
Southern voice almost dripped over the phone lines. She used her
drawl like only women born of Old South money could. “I was
wonderin’ if you were going to make it home in time to go to the
club tonight. They’re havin’ a shower for Roe Anne’s girl, Sissy.
She’s getting married next month.”

Dan groaned and rolled his eyes. “Um,
isn’t a wedding shower sort of a girl thing?”

“
Well, usually it is,
but…”

Here it comes.

“
Well they wanted this to be
a Jack and Jill shower so the boys could join in.”

“
That was considerate. Does
that mean if you’re single, you’re not allowed?”

Gloria groaned and worked up a little
whine on the other end. “Baby, I told you about this last week.
Don’t you remember?”

Gloria had told him any number of
things last week but he wasn’t likely to remember them without
Darcy here to remind him. She was his right hand and his left and
this little piss-ant boy, Ron…Rob…Don…whatever his name was, wasn’t
coming close to filling her shoes.

“
I’ll try to make it, honey.
What time does it start?”

“
Dinner at seven at High Top
and the shower afterward at the Club around 8p.m.”

“
What if I meet you at the
Club? I don’t think I’m gonna make dinner.”

“
Oh, alright Dan,” Gloria
huffed with exasperation. “We’ll be in the Magnolia Room at the
Fairfield Country Club, not the Clearview Club. Please don’t be
late.”

“
I won’t.” He thought about
what kind of work he could use to beg off, but Gloria was so
excited about the two of them getting out together. This would be
only the third or fourth time they’d been together in public since
their wedding two months ago. It was hard to believe he’d managed
to finally marry his high school sweetheart after all these years.
But here they were, sweethearts again, and the talk of the
town…even if some of the talk was more than nasty. “Gloria,” he
added before hanging up. “I love you.”

A few minutes later Bob popped his head
back into the door. “Sir, if it’s alright with you, I’m going home
now…Unless you need something…it’s six o’clock and I promised
my…”

“
It’s okay. Go ahead and
I’ll see you tomorrow if Darcy’s still out.”

“
Thanks a lot! I mean, I
hope she’s still out.” He faltered for a moment, realizing what
he’d just said. “What I really meant was….I hope Miss Raynor is
okay, but I like working here and…well…I’ll see you later.” He
almost fell out the door.

Dan tried not to laugh as he looked
over the stack of files on his desk. If he planned to make it out
of here before eight, he’d have to really tackle some of this
paperwork in a hurry. He picked up a file and got
started.

*****

“
Okay, Act I, Scene 1 again
from the top.” Glynnis wiped a layer of perspiration from her
forehead and the back of her neck with a towel that had been tossed
across the front row of seats. She grimaced at the paint and oil
stains on the rag. Even with the indoor rehearsal space it was hot
in the theatre…too hot. She wasn’t sure how she was going to handle
the heat once they took the whole thing to the outdoor stage. But
she’d managed before; she’d do it again.